She was gone
by YulianaHenderson
Summary: "She's gone. He hadn't seen her in weeks, and he had no idea where she had went. Maybe she had finally decided to reunite with her family, maybe she had finally had enough of being treated like garbage by him. He didn't know." Jisbon, rated T just to be sure. One-shot.


**A/N: I always get a lot of inspiration from Prose and Poetry... and this week we were discussing Charlotte Brontë's 'Jane Eyre' and just... ugh, my head was basically exploding with new ideas.**

**And lately, I accidently used the same idea as somebody else (my beloved Donna, sorry dearie) and unfortunately, FF therefore deleted that story. But the person that reported me hadn't discussed it with me because I would've been willing to delete it myself, and avoid this whole thing. But anyway, if I **_**ever**_** use somebody else's ideas from FF, LET ME KNOW and don't discuss it with somebody else instead of me. Please, I beg of you.**

**AND I put Jane in a tricky situation in this story but I won't be explaining much about **_**how**_** he got into that situation. I didn't want to spend too much time on writing that, but if you don't understand what happened, make sure to PM me or just sign in and leave a review and I'll reply – I **_**do **__**know**_** what happened, I just wanted to keep this brief in the story.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, sadly.**

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'_**She was gone'**_

She's gone.

He hadn't seen her in weeks, and he had no idea where she had went. Maybe she had finally decided to reunite with her family, maybe she had finally had enough of being treated like garbage by him. He didn't know.

He did know that the last thing was true – he had treated her like garbage. And maybe she wasn't fed up with it, maybe she just needed some time alone, but that didn't change the fact that he had hurt her beyond repairing.

A hand rested on his.

"Rest, Jane. I'm serious." Grace. He sighed.

"I admire your attempts to calm me down, but news flash: I'm blind. The motel I was staying in burned down to ashes. I have all reason to be panicking."

"It happened, Jane. It's the past now."

"I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not so good at forgetting things from my past."

He could practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes. He smiled softly. Her hold on his hand tightened softly.

"Don't think this is the end," she said. "Because it's not. You will be better. _This_ will be better. I can't promise things, but if it's bad, it's not the end. Trust me."

He sighed and he heard some sounds beside him. She was sitting down.

They were silent for a long time. He appreciated this. He could just sit with her and say absolutely nothing, but he wouldn't feel alone and that's what he needed now.

Teresa.

His thoughts always seemed to switch to her, no matter what he was thinking about. She was what had kept him on track for so long and now that she was gone, he suddenly found himself close to getting off that track. It was not a very nice feeling.

"She'll come back, Jane."

He shook his head. "No, she won't."

She sighed.

"You know, this is punishment for me treating her badly. I should've stopped it sooner. I shouldn't have been such an idiot."

"Jane..."

"We both know it's true, Grace. Don't give me that frown."

He felt her rolling her eyes again. He leaned his head against his pillow and he let go of her hand.

"Are we ever going to talk about the fire, Jane?"

"Not likely."

"Why not?"

"I'm blind now."

"I know that. I'm not stupid. That doesn't explain why you don't want to talk about it though."

He sighed. They were once again silent.

He heard a bird flying outside, tapping its peak against the window. Then it flew away again.

"It hurts. Literally, but figuratively as well. I... thought I was going to die. And... without... _her_. Without _telling_ her. I was not so much afraid of dying... I just... I..."

"You love her," Grace added. And indeed, it was true. As simple as that – he loved Teresa. Without her, he was nothing. He was just an empty shell, he wouldn't really _live_, just exist. Much like he did now.

"Yes."

Grace was silent for a long time then, but it wasn't something new for them. He heard a chair moving.

"She'll be back. I know it."

"Grace, stop that now. We both know she-"

He was stopped by a shy hand on his, and he instantly felt it wasn't Grace's. He was left breathless as he tried to remember whose hand it was. He was killing himself not knowing.

He remembered when the hand moved and intertwined with his. He instantly felt tears stinging in his eyes.

"Teresa?"

No reply came; it stayed eerily quiet, only his ragged breath could be heard. A thumb softly rubbed the top of his hand.

"Speak," he said, just as softly as the thumb was comforting him.

"Yes," a voice whispered. His heart jumped to the moon and back. "It is me."

He tightened his hold on her hand, and much to his surprise, another hand joined, covering his hand completely until everything about his hand was her.

_Her_.

She was back.

"Teresa," he breathed. He felt and heard her sit down on the edge of the hospital bed. She raised his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the top of it. His skin tingled.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice still nothing more than a whisper. She lowered his hand again – _no, keep it against your lips_, he thought, _please_.

She seemed to have sensed his thoughts and lifted his hand again.

"It's a..." he said, his voice hoarse. He coughed. "It's a long story."

She didn't say anything. But as long as his hand was still pressed to her lips, he knew she wouldn't leave.

"Tell me anyway," she said after a silence, her lips moving against his hand, making his skin tingle once again. "I want to know."

And after a long while, he told her. About the fire in the motel he stayed in; how it killed most of the people who stayed there as well, by suffocation; how the only way for him to survive was walk straight through the fire; how when the building exploded, the blast destroyed his sight; how it would take a miracle for him to ever see again.

All throughout his monologue, she was quiet, sometimes placing kisses on the top of his hand, or opening his hand and kissing its palm.

At the end of his story, he had started crying. Not because of pain, or because of the memories, but because of the realization that she was here and he couldn't look at her. He would never be able to see her; her emerald eyes, her dark and soft hair, her petite but strong body.

"I'm so sorry, Patrick," she whispered when his tears had disappeared.  
"For what, Teresa?" he asked, softly. "You couldn't have done anything."

"Maybe if we weren't so stupid, you would have been sleeping at my place and you wouldn't have been in that fire."

The reality of her words wasn't lost on him, and he took in a deep breath. He gently pulled on her hands and she got the hint, lying down beside him.

Only now did she release his hand, and he took the opportunity to reach out and caress her face, learning every inch, every little wrinkle, until he felt something wet on his fingers and he instinctively closed his eyes.

"Oh Teresa," he whispered and pulled her closer, finding her hair with his hands and burying his face into it.

"Aren't you... aren't you going to ask... where I was?" she asked in between sobs. He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, but he knew this wasn't how he should do it, how he could comfort her.

"No," he whispered. "I already know. It's okay, Teresa. It's my fault."

She sobbed in his arms and they lay like that for a long time until she had calmed down slightly. She then pushed him onto his back and after a few seconds, he felt her soft lips on his eyelids, one hand gently cupping his cheek.

"I love you, Teresa. So much."

She kissed the corner of his mouth.  
"I know." She kissed his lips then. "I love you too."

~...~

She handed him Amy, and he smiled involuntarily when he felt the little girl's delicate hands on his cheek.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he whispered, and she chuckled.

It filled him with sadness every time he got to hold her – to never see her, to never take a look at what she looked like, the product of true love. See how much she looked like her mother, how beautiful she was.

He loved her, both of them. There was no doubt in that. But he hadn't seen Teresa's face for one year now, and he never ever seen Amy – not literally, that is. He had felt her face a lot of times.

Her words had haunted his nightmares a lot. _'Maybe if we weren't so stupid, you would have been sleeping at my place and you wouldn't have been in that fire.'_

She was right, of course. If they had just given in to all the tension that was building around them, to the feelings they had for each other, they would've been making passionate love in her bedroom and he would have never been in that motel when it burned down.

Another regret – he would've been able to see her face while they made love. He couldn't see her now. He would've been able to see her in the throes of passion, deciding instantly that she was beautiful in every single moment.

He felt Teresa wrapping her arm around his shoulder and she pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Cheer up, Grumpy."

He grinned. "I'm not grumpy."

"You looked grumpy."

She grabbed his free hand and handed him Amy's bottle. She helped him guiding it to Amy's lips and then kissed his temple again.

"Are you ready for your appointment?"

"Always," he replied.

She remained by his side for a while, and he imagined she was watching Amy drinking. Something was bothering her and he was destined to find out what. He didn't need to ask her, though, as she started talking.

"What if you can never see again?"

He thought about this question, but he knew it wasn't necessary.

"It wouldn't change anything. I already can't see anything. It can't get worse." Before she could interject, he continued. "The only thing I'll regret is that I can't see Amy becoming a beautiful young woman. That will hurt... but if it turns out that I really can't see anything, I will just have to accept it."

She sighed. She brushed his arm.

"And I will never like not seeing you anymore."

She made him turn his head and kissed his lips.

~...~

He knew this was his last chance – the doctors knew this was their last chance as well.

Nothing could be done if this failed, and Jane would live the rest of his life without sight.

Nerves were tearing him apart, even though he knew it was of no use to be feeling nervous. It wouldn't change anything of this situation, it wouldn't help him, but for once, he didn't use his biofeedback skills to calm down his overheating heart. He just let whatever was going to face him wash over him. He couldn't change it, so he wouldn't try to either.

"Okay, Mr. Jane, are you ready?"

Jane took in a deep breath, and instantly he felt her hands on his shoulders.

"No."

"I know something," Teresa said. It was silent, only her soft feet moving on the floor could be heard. Then, he felt the familiar warming of Amy being put in his arms. He once again took a deep breath and snuggled the baby close to his chest.

He knew why Teresa had done this – now he knew that _if_ he could see again, the first thing he would see was their daughter. And he knew that she knew how much he wanted to see Amy.

The doctor seemed to watch this, since he was silent, but when Jane nodded, he came closer.

Slowly, very slowly, the doctor removed the pads which were placed over Jane's eyes to protect them from sunlight after his operation. When they were gone, Jane was afraid to open them. Until he felt hope igniting within him, and anticipation.

_Your last chance, Jane. Open your eyes._

And he did.

A blur of green eyes were looking into his. They contained a spark of curiosity and amusement. He stared at the little girl for a long while, and it took him the exact same amount of minutes until it dawned on him that he could _see her_.

She had brown curls and her eyes were emerald green. She looked exactly like he had thought she would.

She was beautiful.

A tear dripped on her face, and the curiosity and amusement left as she was downright glaring at him, wondering what he was doing.

"Patrick?" Teresa's hand rested on his shoulder and he almost reared his head around, and her face came into his sight full-force, almost knocking him off his seat – she was just as beautiful as he had remembered. She hadn't changed one bit, if only, she looked more beautiful.

"Oh my god," he breathed. Her hand rested on his cheek.

She stared at him for a long time, a frown of confusion and concern on her face – god how much he had missed that frown.

"Don't frown like that, my love. It will give you wrinkles."

Instead of rolling her eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and all but attacked his lips.

He was back, even though he hadn't really left in the first place.

When Teresa pulled away, he smiled at her and looked down at their daughter.

The blur was gone, he could see her clearly now.

"I love you, Teresa," was all he said, and her blinding smile when he looked at Teresa again, was enough to give him strength for the rest of his life.

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**A/N: So, yeah, okay. That was what P&P made me feel. For the die-hard fans among you: this was based on that scene where Jane is re-united with Mr. Rochester and he's blind and all because of the fire. I just... ugh, I can't even.**

**Let me know, though, what you think. It would really mean a lot to me, thanks!**


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